Femusing...FeMuse #3

Lucy O'Brien is Assistant Editor at IGN AU, and Carrie Fisher is her rolemodel. Follow her on IGN at Luce_IGN_AU,or @Luceobrien on Twitter.

I've always associated the word 'muse' as a sexual thing...something that inspires because one finds the subject sexy or attractive because of talent, looks, or other things that cause one to think outside themselves. My muses are Bruce Dickinson and Henry Rollins. Both are older men in the music industry, known for re-inventing themselves and helping the world become a better place.

I've decided it's time for me to express my appreciation for the feminists who use their gifts to make this planet a little more awesome with their presence. They don't need to be sexy, it's irrelevant. They just need to be women who make me want to stand up and CHEER.

 There are so many...Emma Watson, Susan Anthony, Gloria Steinem, Lydia Pajunen, Tina Turner, Joy Maruno, Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, The list really is endless.

I have decided on three women who I can look at and think "Yeah! They did it. I can too!"

Number Three is Carrie Fisher. And it's not just because of Star Wars, although she's brilliant as Princess Leia. So iconic was the movie, and her role in it, that people still shout "Princess Leia!" and she still answers.

Did you know she's an author as well? Titles I've read are : Postcards from the Edge, Delusions of Grandma, Surrender the Pink, and The Best Awful. There are more. LOTS more. Carrie Fisher Author Page

What I like about her, both as an actor and an author is her willingness to bare all, GIVE all. She's an open soul.

She's blunt and honest. She speaks of her own mental illness without shame, shares it with readers in The Best Awful, and expects people to accept her as she is. She'll have it no other way.

She's funny. She pokes fun at herself in pages, in interviews and in cameo appearances. She'll joke about her experiences in rehab and her weight. That's refreshing in anyone, never mind a Hollywood starlet.

She's talented as Hell. I loved her as Princess Leia. And she was so young at the time! She gave kids like me a REAL princess to look up to, not a damsel in distress. One who put herself in charge of her own rescue when the boys got them shot at. That role was MADE for Carrie Fisher. Who else could have pulled it off?

I liked her in The Burbs. I loved her appearance in Ellen, the sitcom. I loved her cameo in Big Bang Theory. I love her in interviews.

I love her most as a writer. When I grabbed Postcards from the Edge, I confess it was just curiosity. I didn't expect much. So many actors try to branch off into other fields like books and music, only to find they can't make the transition. But Carrie made it look effortless. She spoke to me in her own personality, and somehow it worked. She knew what she was doing. She knows how to write.

I can't wait to rediscover her in her role as General Organa-Solo. Yes, I'm aware it's January, and I'm probably the only person who hasn't seen the new Star Wars movie. I've been kinda busy, so no spoilers, please. There's so many of her books I haven't read yet. I'm very much looking forward to reading those too.

I'm glad Carrie Fisher is back in a new Star Wars movie, because I'm glad I found her again.

The Elusive Joy.

She videotaped my wedding for me.

This is the first year I've dreaded New Year's Eve. DREADED it. I couldn't even look at Facebook. It was plastered with bright colors and sentimental drivel about wishes and opportunities and other things I knew weren't coming my way since I'm gearing up for what feels like the hardest year of my life.

Husband still isn't working. Work hours drying up. Bank account shrinking. Impending need to publish, even though I may or may not make a single cent off my work. If I can even figure out all the computer stuff I have to do to get there.

My favorite uncle came to visit, and I tried to make light of it. I don't want to worry him. He's a bit of a hero to me. When I think of my mortgage, I remember him telling me about the years he had to pay 17 percent interest on HIS mortgage. "How the hell did you manage?!" I asked. He shrugged, and said, "We did what we had to do."

We did what we had to do.

When I told him how I was worried about paying my mortgage, at a measly three percent, and that it's half my wage, he assured me, "You'll figure it out." He sounds so confident. After all, I'm his niece. I come from good stock, and a long line of feminists.

As far back as anyone can remember, we had an ancestor named Suzanna, who left her home in Lapland at seven years of age to get a job rocking a cradle for a rich family in England, so they say.  I think she was my great-great-great grandmother. My great-great-grandma was Ida, wife of Captain Mikkelson. I don't know much about her, but I can imagine being the wife of a sea-capatin meant long months alone with the children. Things they don't tell you until you are an adult: My great-grandmother, Lydia Pajunen gave birth to seven children. My grandmother, her sixth,  was her first child to live past three years of age. (She's now 93) Great-grandpa drank too much, so she took courses to become a successful midwife. My grandmother was married to my grandfather for over 50 years, despite the fact that he didn't believe in looking for work. He thought his reputation should bring work to him. They had four boys to feed, so grandma took on any job she could get, including writing articles for the local newspaper.

I want to surrender. I want to just pack in the writing thing and say fuck it. Usually, I embrace change. It's inevitable. It's the only thing in life you can consider an absolute, along with death. Why am I resisting? Because I'm not ready. I don't have the time, energy or money to embrace it. I don't want to self-publish, and I resent the fact that I have to do it RIGHT. NOW.

So tonight, my best friend Mel took me to a movie with gift cards she got for Christmas. The movie was called 'Joy', starring Jennifer Lawrence. I think the universe is trying to tell me something.

No spoilers, but a synopsis. Ms. Lawrence's character has a complicated family, and a stressful life. Good thing she's a smart cookie. The story drags Joy through hell, over and over, but she doesn't give up. She uses her smarts to invent a mop, and does everything in her power to make her product a success. She's savvy, determined and doesn't sell herself short. She stays true to herself.

I got the message.

I also got to spend time with Mel, a woman I still can't believe is my best friend. If you knew who we were in high school, you would agree that life is strange. I can spend a few hours with her, and she makes the hurts seems comical and handlable. She makes me happy, and she is good to her core. Time with her today made me realize I'm not alone. And that there are OTHER friends in my life I DO appreciate. As long as I have friends like Mel, Colleen, Kathy, Kevin, The Raju's and the Maguires and so many more, I'll be okay. I'll do what I have to do.

I'll be an armadillo. I feel my optimism returning.

Where Have I Been?

Merry Christmas and/or Happy Holidays! I can't believe it's been a month since my last blog post. Eep. I didn't mean to be so lax. I DO have excuses. Work, writing, (Yes, I have been writing--just not on this blog.) and life with two cats and a troll.

I had to drop my tradition of sending Christmas cards this year. I'm a little sad about that, but it saved me a lot of time and money. I'm going to treat this post as my Christmas letter to everyone.

I'm still working full time. The troll is not. I'm losing weight. My pants fell off at work today. Thank God I was working alone at the time! Spartacus Jones and Freya are fine and still the cutest creatures ever.

But enough about that. Here's my REAL reason for writing....

I'm going to publish a brand new novella in February. Its name is 'HER TRUE NAME: Volume One.'  It will be self-published, and the edits are already done. (Thanks Heather Savage. You did a GREAT job!) It's about 25,000 words. My ISBN is ready to go, and I'll start with a digital version.

I would publish the cover for you to see, but I haven't purchased the iStock photo yet, because I don't know what size I need. My bestie is going to come over and help me design said cover. I need to set up a PayPal account and take care of other details like the description on the back.

My God, am I ever SCARED. But sometimes you have to do things because you're afraid of them. I would rather wrestle with this than waste time and energy trying to find an agent or another publisher. That could take months, even years.

If this works out, I could probably have another full length novel out in 2016 as well. Remember me talking about 'CHASING MONSTERS'? Yeah, that's next. Oy. Wish me luck! Hopefully, I'll have new information soon.

Anyway, I want to wish YOU an awesome season and all the happiness in the world now and in the New Year. MmmmmmWAH!

Decaffeinated Work

A Tim Horton's 'Double Double'.

* I am in no way disrespecting or diminishing the events which recently happened in Paris. I've decided NOT to blog about it, because I have nothing interesting or insightful to add. Believe me, I'm as hurt and angry as everyone else, but I won't be commenting on it. *

I LOVE coffee. I could write thousands of words about my first taste of it, my favorite kinds, (Turkish and Ethiopian)  how it affects me, and how I order it in various coffee shops. But coffee has left me with a kind of homesickness.

At both jobs, my need for coffee is legendary. (How many have you had today, Donna?) The first thing I do, even before punching in, is turn on the coffee maker. Yes, you can still talk to me--I may not make a lot of sense yet, but I'm still reasonably human. I'm okay as long as I know I'm going to GET a *&%# coffee. No matter what time I have to get up, it's what gets me to work on time, knowing I get to drink coffee when I get there. I take my first sip...ahhhhh! And I can get on with my day.

Yesterday, my city finally got snow. In typical, unpredictable Alberta weather fashion, it was overly-expected. This year it's at least three weeks late.

I hit my snooze alarm three times before I got up, looked out the window, groaned loud enough to wake hibernating bears, and prepared for work.

Why don't I make coffee at home BEFORE work? Because if I did, there might be reasons not to go. This is where the homesickness kicked in.

I like my jobs. Each day I get a lot of exercise and satisfaction from all the things I cook and prep. I like a job well done, and I like my co-workers.

But yesterday, as I left my desk, my husband, kitties and warm home, I couldn't help but remember what I was doing this time last year.

I'd woken early, and made myself bacon, eggs, and coffee. I stayed in my flannel pajamas. I fed my cats, snuggling the hell out of them before I sat at my desk, smug with the knowledge that I didn't have to go outside and face the cold. I could sit still and create. Bliss.

I remember that first sip of coffee, felt the anticipation of the rush I knew would come. I opened the file to my novella, eager to begin my writing day.

I miss that feeling so much. I miss my old routine. Nowadays, I sit at my desk--after work--checking the clock, assuring that I don't write too late so that I won't be dusty-eyed tomorrow. Knowing I have to be up in six hours. Or less. Then knowing exactly why I need that coffee so much, because this happens so often.

So I can't have a coffee. I've actually reversed my life. How does one write without coffee? First World Problem, I know.

Here's a link to one of my first and favorite blog posts. I wrote this one as 'Thoeba', and it's about her first experience with coffee. :  http://earthtothoeba.blogspot.ca/2010/11/java-script.html

When Piracy Turns Personal: Plagiarism.

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I'm so mad, I don't even know where to start. I wasn't sure which was worse--Piracy or Plagiarism. I'm going with plagiarism. It's one thing to steal someone's work and profit from it, but it's another thing to steal someone's work for profit AND pass their hard work, sweat, aggravation, and joy off as your own.  Every author knows exactly how difficult it is to write, edit, publish and promote a novel. Why would you steal from a fellow author? Isn't it hard enough to be a writer without turning on each other? Why the hell would you WANT to put your name to something you can't be proud of, because you didn't do it? I can't wrap my head around it.

I've seen two articles about plagiarism this week alone. Here's a link to one of them: http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/oct/28/prolific-romantic-fiction-writer-exposed-as-a-plagiarist?CMP=share_btn_tw

Worse yet, this is not the only incident I've found recently. I'm currently supporting Rachel Nunes'  GoFundMe for taking her plagiarist to court. Standing Against Plagiarism I wish I could help Ms. Nunes more. Wish I could afford to max out my Visa for her. If this happened to me, I'd sue too.

Notice she still doesn't have all the funding she needs? Notice the harassing posts she got from her antagonist? Where's her backup? As many writers as there are in the world, and we're not rallying to her rescue?

People are looking away. Too busy, financially strapped, can't be bothered...What if it happens to you? We need to start doing something, or it's going to happen more.

Collins English Dictionary defines the word 'plagiarize' as--"to appropriate (ideas, passages, etc.) from (another work or author)" Even the dictionary takes a bland attitude toward this.

When I was in elementary school, a teacher spelled it out for us. It started as a warning against cheating, but ended as a threat against plagiarism. She told us if we were ever caught doing it as an adult, the consequences would follow us for life. If you did it in college or university, you would be thrown out, and no other institute would take you. And good luck getting a job. If you did it at work, you would most certainly be fired, and would probably need a lawyer. Again, good luck getting another job. I was horrified at the thought of how that kind of thing could ruin my future, but at the same time, I had to ask, "Why would anyone do that anyway? What's the point of just copying someone else?"

I'm finding, especially lately, that originality in writing is hard to come by. I struggle to find new things to say all the time, but NOTHING could make me pass off someone else's stuff as my own. I cherish my individuality, and feel the same way about my work. I need it to be mine. I'm sure most writer's feel the same way.

Don't these people know that this is the age of the internet? The things you say and do are here FOREVER, for the world to see. Wouldn't you want your legacy to be the very best things your mind could produce? But no...Their legacy will be that of a thief. They could have written the most poignant tome of love, peace and racial harmony but no one's going to remember, because they'll be known for stealing. Yet, somehow these people don't seem to care much. Nobody seems to care that much. What's wrong with this planet? Is it just me?

The Sophie Lancaster Project

I can finally talk about this! I'm so grateful to be a part of this anthology! It's all about empowerment.

But first, a little backstory.

Emma Hibbs is a friend and fellow author/family member from Staccato Publishing. She's a talented young Australian living in England. While there, she learned about a young woman named Sophie Lancaster.

Sophie Lancaster was a twenty year old goth who was murdered just for the way she looked. Her and her boyfriend were accosted by a band of thugs who literally kicked their heads in. Sophie's boyfriend survived only because Sophie used her body to protect him after he lost consciousness. http://www.theguardian.com/uk/2008/aug/03/ukcrime.sophielancaster

Although it happened years ago, Emma recently learned of it, and expressed her horror and heartbreak on Facebook. I shared her emotions, and asked if there was anything I could do. Turns out there was something we could do, and this anthology is Emma's answer. I'm FEROCIOUSLY PROUD to be a part of it. Thank you Emma for inviting me!

I can't speak for Emma, or any of the other writers included in 'Dare to Shine', but I can tell you why this is so important to me.

I'm 14-15 here. Do I look menacing? Perhaps not quite yet.

I grew up in a town of 2000 people. The kids there were mostly preppies and jocks--There were precious few headbangers like me. Maybe seven or eight of us? I back-combed my hair as high as I could. I wore the most obnoxious jewelry, and eclectic clothing  I could find. I went everywhere with a Walkman blasting Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer and other stuff that would cauliflower your ears. And I was proud of it! I LOVED being completely different from everyone else. Still do.

People called me names--behind my back, and to my face. Headphone Girl. Fool. Weirdo. Space Cadet. Satanist. Adults would openly sneer at me and roll their eyes. But never, EVER did I think that anyone would try to kill me for the way I dressed. And it hurts to know that someone murdered Sophie Lancaster just for that reason. And that's why I'm in.

I can't give you a peek. I can't give you any excerpts--Ever. I wrote the 8000 word short story, but it belongs to S.O.P.H.I.E. now.  All rights and 100% profits belong to the foundation that bears Sophie Lancaster's name.  I feel so good about this, like I contributed something valuable to the world.

When the time comes, I will post a link for purchase, and I hope you all check it out. Remember, the proceeds will help fight bullying and you'll get some good reading on top of that.

Always be proud of who you are!

When Writing Causes Work Injuries

I feel so stupid right now. My thumb is encased in five miles of gauze, because I successfully sliced off a full centimeter of flesh off, with a sizable chunk of fingernail to go with it.

I was cutting kale into a small dice when it happened. I was carrying on a half-assed conversation with a co-worker about...Oh Hell...What were we talking about? Something work related. I was thinking about writing.

I have finished a sex scene for my new novel Elaina's Fate, and was wondering where exactly I start after that.

Plus I'm not happy with said sex scene. I've been quoted as saying "Writing sex scenes is like losing your virginity in public." This is much worse. Elaina's Fate...is written in first person. And in present tense. Which means I'm writing it as though I'm LIVING it. If writing sex scenes is like losing your virginity in public, then this feels like inviting all my friends over to watch my own sex tape and making them popcorn. Why do I do this to myself?

So I was thinking of writing, and babbling about work with my hand splayed out, not digits curled in like I know they should have been. We were out of coleslaw, and I was trying to hustle. So when I sliced my thumb, I did it with an aggressive chop borne of determined haste.

My agonized, startled yelp caused Dhodie to jump about three feet straight up in the air. He has the nerve to ask,: "Did you cut yourself?"

So we inspect my injured digit, and he turns grinch green and teeters slightly. I've seen worse. And it hurt worse than this. Actually, the powder they dumped on my cut to stop the bleeding hurt worse than the cut itself.

The bad news? I'm not allowed to push, pull or lift anything over eleven pounds. I can't do yardwork, peel anything for canning, or generally anything that might cause me to bleed again.

The good news? I type with only two fingers, so I can still write to my heart's content!